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.T485 
1873 
Copy 1 



LJ 75 
.T485 
1873 
Copy 1 




ORATION, POEM, AND HISTORY, 



DELIVERED BEFORE THE 



t^ 



AT THE CONVENTION DINNER. 



Held in the Metropolitan Hotel, New York City, 



On the Evening of February 2ist^ i8j^ 



J- 




privately printed, 
UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE CHI CHAKCtE, 

university of ROCHESTER, N. Y. 



^n^ 




^^SJ^U COLLECTION 



W^/4 



BBNlfrE; THOMSON & CO. 
l«I'nitoiiSt.,Newyork. 



PROGRAMME 



WILLIS S. PAINE Chairman. 

JACOB SPAHN Orator. 

Subject— '■'■ Reminiscences of College Life.'''' 

JOHN BROUGHAM Poet. 

Subject—'' The Age of Gold:' 

FRANKLIN BURDGE Historian. 

Subject-'' Origin and Founders of the Theta Delta Chi:'' 



TOASTS. 

' Oar Fraternity " J. Kilbourne Jones. 

' Memory of the Dead " Jolin W. Griggs. 

■ The Southern Charges " William M. Coleman.. 

■ The Press " William L. Stone. 

I rpjjg -g^j. " Oscar Frisbie. 

■ The Ladies ".? Cameron Mann. 

The Grand Lodge"- Frank W. Stewart. 

, j Joseph Mullin. 

Liquids in Motion ] T. N. Van Valkenburgh. 

The Charge whose Guests we are " Marcus Michaels. 

The Charo-e whose Guests we are to be" . . . R. C. Briggs. 



A. P. LITTLE, C. S. HANKS. 

M. MICHAELS. 



EEMINISOENOES OF COLLEGE LIFE. 



Brethren of the Theta Delta Chi : 

When a man becomes sick at heart, he thinks the dead are 
happy. The maudlin poet constructs his refrain upon that sen- 
timent. But it is all an error. 'Tis true that disappointments 
dishearten — true that misfortunes depress — true that each dis" 
pelled illusion makes us sadder — more true than all that the 
dead suffer nothing down in the solemn stillness of their abode. 
To them comes no noise of strife. Their fleshless ribs encase 
no heart to feel the pain of slights. They have no bodies to 
suffer with any of the manifold distresses of wretchedness. Mal- 
ice cannot harm them, nor envy sting them. They are inacces- 
sible as the Gods on Mount Olympus to every human ill. But 
our lot is a better one ; for the poorest, the most unfortunate 
among us lives, has a share of sunshine and a claim upon the 
seasons. Every Spring brings with it the tender grass that 
grows into richest green with the Summer, fading slowly away 
under the bronze and gold of Autumn, till the spotless shroud 
of Winter kindly covers its remains. And all the while the 
broad sky arches overhead, and so long as foliage is on trees it 
is stirred into music by the winds of heaven; and birds twitter, 
and brooks ripple, and the landscape looks glorious when the 
bright sun lights it up, stretching off into the haziness of blue 
distance till it fades away into ether. This all is ours. Let u& 
enjoy it while we may ; and if there be one among us whose lot 
has been so wretched, that nothing seems left to him but misery 
and mourning, who finds no joy in Nature to dispel his unhappy 
mood, he may still steal away from it for odd hours by recalling 
some happy past. 

Oh, Reminiscence ! you furnish us the power to go back 
to a time when care sat lightly on our shoulders, and the 



6 

broad heavens hang full of silver-stringed lutes. Where has 
our boyhood vanished — that happy time of illusions ? Where is 
the top, where are the marbles, where the schoolhouse and the 
old pedagogue, where, dearer, more lost than all, the free and 
ringing laugh, the glee of boyish innocence ? No more coasting 
in the clear winter weather for us now — no more tumbling each 
other about in juvenile sport on the green commons — no more 
fiery-eyed ghosts to blink at us from dark places. Aladdin's 
lamp and Crusoe's story have lost their ancient charm ; nor may 
we any longer feel ourselves IN'apoleons, sweeping into destruc- 
tion bold Mamelukes under the shadow of the Pyramids, as in 
that joyous time, now dead, and beyond any resurrection but 
the shadowy, most times painful, and unsatisfactory resurrection 
of reminiscence. 

Too bad — too bad the whole of it ; and past as that earlier 
time is our College life. Do you still remember when papa said, 
" Now, my son, you must go to College" ? There was no end 
of preparation, no end of leave-taking ; and at the last moment, 
delayed as long as possible, fond mamma, whose tender heart 
was breaking, invoked God's blessing as she kissed her boy 
again, weeping so hard the while that one would think the part- 
ing were forever. Her sobs and tears even infected you, stout 
as you had resolved to carry yourself on the occasion. Then 
the ride over miles and miles of green country, when you passed 
through hamlets, towns and cities, with a prospect ever varying 
before your young eyes. But the prospect did not interest you, 
did not even distract your mind ; for your thoughts would still 
wander back to the old folks, the old times, the boys and the 
scenes that you were leaving behind. Somehow each league 
you put between yourself and them gradually took the form of 
a separate eternity, out of whi43h but one word kept continually 
sobbing itself into your ear — Gone ! gone ! gone! And the soul 
of meaning in this word permeated you. Sad, most wearisomely 
sad and heavy grew your heart. The ceaseless rumble of the 
car wheels tired you ; the monotonous faces of the passengers 
tired you. Oh, that the tiresome ride were over ! — and you 
were at your journey's end. 

Then you began to speculate what sort of place it was, what 
sort of people you would meet, and whether the students there 
were good fellows. One by one the stories you had heard of 



the adventures a man would have at College, of the terrible 
things he would be obliged to encounter, introduced themselves 
into your mind, until you became uncomfortable and felt strange 
forebodings of the awful experience in store for you. Then 
came likewise the terrible question about the examinations : 
Would you happily pass them all, and be entered as a Fresh- 
man ? These College Professors are veritable sphinxes, put 
fearful posers in the shape of questions, and are barbarously 
•cold-blooded to a man's diffidence and embarrassment. But 
you are not afraid of them ; oh, no, not you ! No dragon in 
the shape of a College Professor can emit brimstone fire enough 
in the form of perplexing questions to drive the heroism out of 
your chivalric and lore-burdened soul. 

So Examination day arrives. You are successful, see your- 
self admitted into College ; but your exultation is a lonesome 
affair, because there is no friend to share the joy of success with 
you. You are all alone, and all alone you take your place on 
the chapel benches of your class, among others each of whom, on 
this the first day of the term, feels as isolated, as solitary and 
as cheerless as yourself, wishing almost out loud that the dreary 
psalm-singing and Bible-reading, which weigh with such heavi- 
ness upon the place, were ended, and the work of the term com- 
menced- It will commence, my anxious under-graduate ; it will 
commence, and one day you will awake when unlearnt lessons 
have accumulated mountain high, and fastened themselves, like 
Christian's burden, upon your tired shoulders ; and you strive in 
vain to work them off, till out of the black depths of despair you 
groan the wish that the work of the term never had commenced, 
:and draw the cheerless conclusions that it was a great mistake 
to send you to College ; that your landlady is an intolerable 
dun ; that your washerwoman shares that characteristic ; that 
good old trust is dead, and father obdurate. But here kind 
mamma steps in like a fairy, and with her pin-money, hoarded 
up for Jack at College, dispels all the clouds that lower over 
him. Now then, " Away with melancholy — begone, dull care." 
Ho for a feast ! " and to-night let us merry, merry be, for 
to-morrow we'll grow sober." How you exult, and is it not 
a glorious day ? The beaming sun gilds everything ! Richly 
the girls' cheeks bloom, and playfully their pearly little teeth 
sparkle in the light. How much everything improves wjiile 



8 

we have that modern Merlin — Money — at our disposal ! A 
hundred times we've conned our lessons, as visions of what 
might be enjoyed with the sum now in our possession flitted be- 
fore our tired, nauseated eyes, and stood between those lessons, 
and made us hate them. But we shall have revenge for all — we 
will repay ourselves for the sorry moments we passed in the 
penniless company of Greek roots and Algebraic formulas ; we 
will live out our money grandly — wildly, like some gay and 
frivolous prince; and the boys shall hear of us, tell wonderful 
tales of the times we had, and envy us the genius of knowing 
how to create a lark; "so to-night loeHl merry ^ merry he^ and 
to-morrow we'll grow soherP 

So the world goes with the Freshman, who ripens, reaches 
maturity, and develops into the Sophomore. The latter gives 
up his place at last, and our once diffident, anxious little man, 
with so many forebodings, timid from numerous hazings, sees 
himself suddenly transferred from the slums of obscurity to the 
dignity of College tyrant. The more he suffered in the previous 
stage, the more those shall be made to suffer whom misfortune 
and fond parents have now put in his vacant place. He and his 
classmates flit about the College halls like fiends, and the versa- 
tility of mischief becomes colossal. Ho ! for the torture we can 
inflict ! Ho ! for the College pump ! Ho ! for the smoking pro- 
cess ! Ho ! for the sight of half naked Freshmen shivering in the 
cold ! Ho ! for rushes on the Campus green ! Ho ! for high hats 
and independence ! Now Macaulay's spirit lights upon us, and 
Macaulayan antitheses throw out their showy sparkle every- 
where. Now we fix our minds upon Rabelais, Swift, the Decam- 
eron, certain satires of Juvenal, and the expurgated portions 
of Horace. Indeed, our aversion to expurgated editions is at 
this time intense and notorious. We study the early novel, 
and there are passages in Fielding and Smollett over which we 
grow obstreperous and are profoundly edified. A curious crea- 
ture are we, the Sophomore, especially when Sophomore by the 
grace of God, for then more than at any time are we conscious of 
everything bnt the difference between paste and the real rhetori- 
cal jewel. From the brazen cavern between our fresh and downy 
lips, sounding sentences roll like bolts of thunder from the hand 
of Jove; and as to the girls — celestial beings — they float in rose- 
hue4 clouds before our youthful visions, and our gallantry be- 



comes touching, delicate and universal. But it is a bad y<'ar, 
and the interval between it and the year just passed is often the 
interval between boyish innocence and the wisdom that brings 
grief. Trace it back yourselves, brothers, and not few among 
you, as you contemplate that time, will wish there never had 
been a Sophomore year — so painful are the memories. We are 
unfortunately a doomed race, and sin is our heritage. The cup 
must be drained to the dregs, else we know not that dregs are, 
but by hearsay. Yet it was a merry time Avith all its many 
guilty recollections, and likely every one of us would live it over 
just the same — ^jeering at experience, laughing caution to the 
winds, for boys are merry, careless, thriftless of every virtue, hot 
blooded, generous to a fault ; and niggardliness, envy, harrow- 
ing care, are the products of a later day, that come along with 
manhood's struggles, suffering and despair. Who would not give 
some of life's best successes to bury Livy again, in that pompous, 
mock-solemn fashion, surrounded by his old-time class-mates, 
with the same rosy flush of health in his cheeks, the same buoy- 
ant spirit, and the same hopes of future renown swelling in his 
young breast ? Ah, that leads to another recollection, and brings 
back the maddest, merriest time of all the College course. Da 
you remember the last lesson given in mathematics — what a uni- 
versal sigh of relief arose in the class-room that the prosy tyrant 
whom Thales, Leibnitz and Newton had fashioned, was now to 
release us from his testy sway, and lord it over an unhappy batch 
of successors ? How we seized his mortal remains in the vari-^ 
ous shapes in which he had thrust his unsightly presence upon 
us, and, as Algebra, Geometry, the Calculus, buried him with 
demoniac hoots and yells in the College Campus, at the stilly 
hour of midnight ! The red gleam^ of our torches lighted up a 
scene that made the hair of every spectator stand on end. Bed- 
sheets had been pilfered for the occasion, and each man, arrayed 
in one, presented the ghastly look of a spectre. Solemnly the 
Patriarch of the class pronounced the funeral obsequies, dolefully 
a hymn to the^ departed was chanted, and then began a dance 
madder than the veriest savage had ever tripped. The spectral 
sheets fluttered wildly in the black night air ; the burial torches 
flashed about like will-o'-the-wisps; shrieks, yells, whoops and 
shouts commingled in terrible dissonance ; while the measures 
danced became more hideous with each round, until the very 
* 



10 

participants themselves grew scared at the madness of their 
sport. 

And then the glorious feast that followed — the feast with its 
few sober survivors. Dish after dish you still recall, and all 
went well until the brimming beaker began to pass, and then 
oblivion came slowly stealing over you, for, unlike the wise ones, 
you drained your cup at every toast, and there's a bitter penalty 
attached to that which makes the brilliant thoughts thit so pro- 
fusely flash up in one's brain at the beginning of the feast grow 
shy and diffident, hang back, and finally fail altogether. Your 
light and active tongue gradually turned leaden, while an end- 
less amount of generosity and good will toward all mankind 
rose copiously to the surface, as the fumes of wine slyly settled 
in your brain. Big tears began to fill your maudlin eyes. You 
sought at last to embrace each of your classmates, anxious to 
tell him that he was the best and only friend you had in God's 
world, and that you would never leave the place till you had 
safely seen him home — but for some reason you always missed 
your mark and embraced the empty air. 

Ah, liquor, siren with the relentless Nemesis — we go to you 
for cheer, and the welkin rings with laughter to the clinking 
of full glasses. Then the music that floats on the air becomes 
sweeter — then the soul takes flight and soars above sordid things 
— then the sun shines brighter and our hearts feel light and free 
— then our love is an angel, our friend is a good fellow, a hearty 
confidence pervades us, and we feel that 



*•' The merry world is round. 
And we may sail for evermore.' 



But a day sometimes comes when our palaces lie in ruins, when 
our idols are shattered, when faith is gone and dark clouds en- 
Telope all. Oh, protean Misfortune ! A false woman loved too 
well, a toilsomely got fortune swept suddenly away, the loss of 
an adored wife, privation, ill-luck, despair, all urge toward the 
flowing cup. And this same cup that raised our hopes so high, 
that fed our faith so lustily, that made the world so bright, is 
drained again to ease the bitter pangs of disappointment, to 
drown remorse, to numb the soul, to stupify the paining senses, 
to draw a curtain on the past ; and the poor blear-eyed wretch 
creeps to it, shivering, miserable, seeking relief as a famished 



11 

wayfarer, who has wearily p'.odded midst storm and darkness, 
would seek shelter by a ruddy fireside. 

To the ruin of how many a brilliant career has liquor laid 
the foundation ! It is so subtle, it cheers so blithely, it tempts 
by such irresistible methods ; and the world is full of so many 
illusions, and the .pain of disillusion is so poignant, that liquor 
comes to men and women like the nepenthe of the Gods. That 
is, when we have doffed the College garb and gone out into the 
world ; for, as undergraduates, we know little of the struggles 
of life, less of the wiles of astute men and the guiles of designing 
women, nothing at all of a spent life and overwhelming disap- 
pointment. In these sapient days we think that liquor was 
designed to play an important part at a feast, and just the thing 
to drink our neighbor under the table with. Then we grow 
noisy over our cups, and laugh loud at the prostrate forms of 
our fellow-revellers, sing merry songs that have a hale and 
hearty chorus, which we render with a snap at the end of each 
line. And people become surprised at all the noise, and we 
become surprised that it is looked upon as a disturbance, and 
peace is nowhere, while every soul that wishes to enjoy a quiet 
night's rest is forthwith set down as a milksop, a booby, a 
spoony, and all tutors are our personal enemies, whom we wish 
every ill, and at whom we level every malediction. Best leave 
these things and pass to where the last lecture upon metaphysics 
had been delivered, and we were expected to survive the ex- 
aminations preparatory to Commencement, the sad time of 
class-day. Oh, hilarity that was but a mask of the bitter grief 
at parting. Proud and erect we marched across the College 
Campus to where the class-tree stood. The sweet music of the 
band floated over and around us. Its strains dallied with the 
summer breeze — sank lower and lower, the cadence slowly mel- 
lowing till it sadly died away. Upon the rich green grass around 
the class-tree we boys formed a circle to smoke the last pipe of 
tobacco together, and watch the smoke carry away in its blue 
bosom every bitterness, all our quarrels and all our differences. 
Then the smoking song was chanted, and, as the chorus ascend- 
ed heavenward, we rose, broke our pipes, and one by one we 
threw the fragments into the grave that already held the class 
records, and each of us shovelled a spade full of sod into the 
hole. Hearts swelled to bursting, and tears rose up to eyelids in 



12 

heavy, almost uncontrollable masses, for was this not the last, 
time we boys would be together? Would this day's sun not 
set upon our youth forever ? Were not these ceremonies break- 
ing the last link that united us to happy boyhood ? Farewell to 
all our joys — to all forever ! Could any triumph at Commence- 
ment compensate us for our poignant feelings then ? Oh no ; 
but temporarily we might forget them, for Commencement is 
such a grand and stately occasion for the graduate. He con- 
fronts a sea of faces, and launches at the audience his dicta upon 
science, literature and art, in a bold_, confident manner, as be- 
comes the hero of the day. His name stands on the programme, 
and is read by every one. His oration is heard by every one, 
and when he finishes and retires every one seems proud of his 
prowess, for every one -applauds. Now and then a graduate is 
honored with a floral tribute to his effort, and gracefully doth 
he bend to pick it up, and charmingly doth he courtesy to ex- 
press his thanks. This is the day of awards, when honor men 
are created and medals are taken. Pardon the pride of the first 
gold medalist. He is so elated that his heart swells and con- 
tracts in a tumult of emotion. It is perhaps the first momen- 
tous achievement of his life. He has not had time to grow used 
to such things. Even in after years, when perhaps more bril-^ 
liant success has attained his efforts, he will comtemplate this 
moment as the proudest of his life. It is indeed an epoch — one 
of the seven stages of existence ; likewise the beginning of the 
end. 

Lucky that the future is hidden from us all. That makes 
Commencement a day of unalloyed pleasure. The new-fledged 
graduate is but a bare theorist in the face of life's struggles, 
and has no conception of the diffiicuities connected with the 
creation of a career. If he had a conception, perhaps it would 
make suicide preferable to the struggle in store. But the fates 
leave us to find out everything by degrees, and if despair seizes 
us, 'tis ever at the close, when all looks hopeless, and the last 
effort has been spent. Strong wills are not always granted with 
great abilities, so genius sometimes falls victim to the pai:gs of 
neglect and disappointment. The struggle for fame is bitterer 
by far than the struggle for subsistence. The dauntlessness of 
envy and the ingenuity of competition dispute every inch of 
ground which the newling seeks to gain. What a many-sided 



13 

creature is malice found to be, and how many diverse phases 
man's bitterness develops ! A host of circumstances hover over 
the aspirant to crush him, and crushed he will be if he have not 
a thousand lives to survive a thousand slights. Whosoever goes 
out into this world with radiant hopes of glorious success, that 
has not had their hopes dashed into atoms countless times, has 
not achieved a name ; nor may he ever hope to, because man and 
the universal law of compensation demand pay in bitter coin for 
every step they let one take above his fellows. Therefore the 
man who is born great may honestly be envied by his less for- 
tunate brother. The gifts that make a rich man's son a genius 
are most modest and mediocre in the poor plodder's boy. And 
even brains of greatest calibre need patronage to give their 
owner due position, so that nothing weighs heavier and impedes 
more than sturdy independence. The -shallow scribbler of 
platitudes may chant praises to self-help, but it is all a bitter de- 
lusion. The thing is too modest, and recognition is only secured 
by hard fighting, with constant assistance from every source. 
An impetus must be given to destroy the ponderous inertia of 
obscurity. But the poor graduate, fresh from Commencement, 
weighed down, perhaps, by its laurels, knows not of all this. 
God grant he may soon find out all. God grant that he have 
influential friends ready to lubricate his passage to a successful 
career. Here in this world of half quacks and whole quacks 
brain is so often ignored that it cannot always be depended 
upon. But powerful friends have influence, and influence brings 
position, and position brings prestige even to the mediocrite, un- 
til they find him out, and then — what then ? Why, most times 
another mediocrite. You poor College graduate, with some of the 
divine afllatus in your soul — with a heart still to be calloused by 
^ knowledge of all these things — what terrible suffering you 
must undergo ; what scalding tears will course down your manly 
cheeks ; what bitter despair will shake your honest heart ; what 
manifold woe the coming years will unfold for you. But strug- 
gle on; let hope cheer you; let disappointments nerve you to 
greater efforts. The godlike within you will tell grandly at last, 
for so told it has among those whose mark you bear from time out 
of mind. Struggle on ! The sun will rise one day, when a world 
shall view your works with wonder, and a niche high up among 
the great ones will be your reward. * Starve on, too, determined 



15 



this goal to reach, and take your reward after the tired, ill-treat- 
ed body that encased your mighty soul has long mingled with 
the dust, for hark you. The mills of God grind slowly, but 
they grind exceeding sure. 




THE AGE OF GOLD. 



Aurum omnes, mctajam pietate, volunt.^' 



brethren of the Theta Delta Chi. 
When the Committee of the Chi Charge did me the 
honor of asking me to prepare something for this conven- 
tion. I informed them that my time was so completely oc- 
cupied, it would be impossible for me to devote any for 
that purpose. They then said it would be sufficiently sat- 
isfactory if I would read the paper I delivered before the 
Fraternity some sixteen years ago — to which I consent- 
ed ; but upon looking it over, there was so much — then 
pertinent — which has long since lapsed into the limbo of 
forgotten events, that I found (as cooks add spice to the 
remnants of yesterday's joint, in order to make the warmed 
up dish more palatable), it was a culinary- necessity to 
sprinkle this concoction with a little contemporaneous pep- 
per, to give it a kind of present flavor. 

Of this though, you may be assured, that however the 
substantial repast you have just enjoyed may afiect your 
physical digestion, my literary tHfle is so light, you need 
have no fear of intellectual dyspepsia. 

So having made tliis preliminary explanation, I shall 
proceed to serve out the rechauffe of rhyme. 

I AM expected — by the bill, it seems — 
To read " a Poemy I hope no one dreams, 
Or has the most remote anticipation, 
That I've attempted any such creation. 



16 

1 only promise a few random rhymes — 

Glancing occasionally at the times. 

A fruitful theme, with which I dare not hope 

That I have strength successfully to cope ; 

But be assured of this, the words you'll hear. 

Though rugged, will be honest and sincere. 

It may be, 1 shall treat in lightsome vein 

Of matters which deserve, and would obtain 

From wiser heads than mine, severer thought, 

And if I lack the skill, 'tis not my fault, 

But rather want of due deliberation 

In the committee of this celebration ; 

Who, since they've honored thus my humble name, 

In simple justice must endure the blame. 

So having comfortably shifted o'er 

The burthen which, till now, I meekly bore — 

It is so pleasant to remove the pack 

Of one's own errors to another's back — 

A most illegal transfer, by the way, 

And made mui'h oftener than we choose to say — 

T, like new shriven rogues of early times, 

Proceed to lay up a fresh stock of crimes, 

Solely depending, for my sin's remission, 

Upon such periodical contrition. 

To think about a poem then's absurd, 

I'm not responsible, mind, for the word ; 

The same committee is at fault again — 

It is their sin, and so it must remain. 

I simply hint that I should hold it shame 

To give this doggrel such a mighty name. 

Poetry, perfect language of the soul. 

Direct and faithful, scorning the control 

Of lies conventional, the trained deceit 

That makes our thought and speech so seldom meet 

In unison, warped by the worldly rules 

That truth confines to madmen or to fools. 

In this dilemma, what am I to do? 

I would call on the Muse, but, entre noiis^ 

We do not visit — I have oft before 

liung most politely at the Muses' door. 



17 



And left my card, with that extreme propriety 

Exemplified in all genteel society, 

But always found that they weie " not at home,* 

And back, abashed, of course I had to come — 

A most conclusive proof in my own mind 

That the acquaintance is by them declined. 

And such a simply personal rebuff 

To a retiring rhymer's hint enough. 

Especially when they are more compliant 

In other quarters. William Cullen Bryant 

Is hand and glove with them, quite at his ease is. 

Can call on them or not, just as he pleases. 

The intimacy is not at all affected, 

E'en by the shameful way they've been neglected. 

To many others they've been most polite — 

The classic Longfellow has but to write 

A sinojle line to brinor them to his side. 

Indeed, so lovingly are they allied, 

And so comj)lete their intimacy is. 

That now they scarcely know their home from his, 

And wonder very often where the deuce it's 

Placed, in Macedon or Massachusetts. 

Adventurous Taylor through the Arctic roves. 

Yet they, forgetting their Pierian groves, 

Shame not to travel with him side by side, 

And through untrodden fields his footsteps guide. 

Oh ! those eternal flirts, had I the time, 

Nor feared the dull monotony of rhyme; 

Why, what a crowd could be enumerated 

Of names with which theirs are associated ; 

Titanic Whittier, honored be the soul 

That spurns oppression's infamous control, 

And in Life's terribly unequal fight, 

Whate'er the cause, still battles for the right. 

A youthful poet, of the present hour, 

Strikes with strong hand the chords of Western power. 

A Theta Delt, we glory in his fame, 

And twine this votive garland round his name. 

The lowliest subjects, by his pen refined, 

Like Zeuxis' paintings, show the master mind. 



18 



And what a broad humanity the whole 

Pervades — the true religion of the soul ! 

The sun shone brilliantly wpon the day 

The world had garnered in that crop of Hay.. 

Another form appears — the wise and witty — 

Dr. O. W. Holmes, of Boston City — 

Who, by tlie will of most capricious fate, 

Must his true intuition abrogate, 

Enforced to turn on the prudential hose 

Upon the bright flame that within him glows. 

Alas ! that he should make such great concession 

To the requirements of his grave profession — 

Relentless exigency gives no quarter, 

But pounds its Poets in an iron mortar. 

'Tis seldom in their day the olive crown 

Is given to those who best deserve renown. 

Great names come filtered through the sands of time^ 

That in their time those very sands obscured; 
Even he whose genius was the most sublime 

In his own day the world's neglect endured. 

Great Nature's arch-magician, to whose spell 
The varied passions of the human soul 
Must quick obedience yield, a myriad minds 
In one conjoined, a universe of thought 
Within the comj^ass of one mortal brain. 
Obscure, untitled, from the laboring million 
The hand of Fate raised up this paragon 
To overtop the highest ; — kings will pass away. 
Nay, their whole lineage be forgotten dust, 
Empires will rise and fall, new worlds be found 
Where Knowledge now declares a void, whole races- 
Disappear, and yet amid the general change, 
While there exists one record of his land 
Or language, and mankind would think of him 
Who has pre-eminently honored both, 
Spontaneous to the lips will come the name 
Of William Shakespeake. 

What shall his crown be ? Not the laurel leaf. 



19 



That, blood-besprinkled, decks the warrior's head, 
Who grasps at glory as destruction's chief, 

A living monument to thousands dead, 
Bequeathing a vast legacy of grief; 

Some pest incarnate, fed with human life, 

Born of ambition or the lust of strife. 

In regal diadem shall we proclaim 

Him monarch ? That would circumscribe his worth. 
A kingly coronet Avould only shame 

The kinglier thought^ whose realm is the whole earth. 
Such petty vanities but mock his fame ; 

Profane it not, He is all crowns above, 

Hero of Peace ! Evangelist of Love ! 

Ere while we've heard how throbbed the mighty heart 

Of Pegasus, yoked to a village cart, 

How strained his trembling limbs to drag the load. 

While his frame quivered from the piercing goad, 

But only for a space, the indignant soul. 

Spurning the savage husbandman's control. 

With one prodigious eifort burst the traces, 

And, as is usual in all such cases, 

Smashed up the wagon and contrived to pitch 

The dolt who drove into a muddy ditch ; 

Then pawing with disdain the vulgar grouncj 

Snorting defiance to the crew around, 

Clove with strong pinion the congenial air, 

By Phoebus mounted, to the hind's despair, 

Who saw no miracle, marked not the rise 

Of the enfranchised courser to the skies. 

But cursed the fate that prompted him to bu> 

A beast with such a tendency to shy. 

This truth, however, his experience told, 

In a horse-trade one party must be sold. 

Our modern Pegasus is not so nice, 

Though now and then he may possess a spice 

Of the old spirit, and be somewhat restive, 

He's kept in wholesome check by the digestive 

For he no more ethereally feeds 

On Heliconian dews, but rather needs 



20 



Robuster fare, and is — the fates deliver us !^ 
Amazingly inclined to the carnivorous. 
His wings are clipped, and now he seldom soars 
Beyond the sphere of advertising stores. 
His bated breath no more salutes the gales, 
But fills with languid puffs trade's flagging sails, 
Lauds without stint or strength, hats, boots, or coats, 
Contented if he earn his daily oats. 
And there are many in this " Gradgrind " age 
Would rather see him harnessed to a stage — 
Fourteen inside, and just as many more 
As can squeeze in or hang upon the door — 
Than have him from his slavery arise. 
To range at will the unproductive skies. 
Ours is a money-ruled commercial age, 
Its acts the substance of a ledger's page ; 
Its deeds by the prospective profits swayed — 
The universal aim — to make a trade. 
The world is one great mart — not over nice — 
And nothing is but has its market price ; 
Fame, Power, Pleasure, nay, we have been told, 
That even Freemeti^s votes are sometimes sold. 
'Tis said — of course by some enormous blunder — 
That Place is but a sjmonym for Plunder, 
That politicians have been sometimes known, 
To Public welfare, to prefer their own ; 
And only fools, who don't know to win. 
Go out of oflSce poor as they went in, 
That to the understanding of the meanest 
Tis plain our city's ways are not the cleanest. 
And spite of all the obloquy it meets, 
Incapability still sweeps the streets. 
'Tis hinted — but that must be defamation, 
That even in the council of the nation 
There are some statesmen who — the Press has said it- 
Took shares in schemes not greatly to their credit, 
And many long thought honorable names 
Were prompted by disreputable aiins. 
In fine, did we believe what they impart, a 
New Lycurgus rules another Sparta, 
And the most honored in the common weal, 



21 



Are those who most successfully can steal. 

No change there can be, while the money power^ 

Tyrannic rules, the idol of the hour; 

Each sordid worshiper his fellow mocks, 

Nor counts his worth, except it be in stocks, 

And to the glittering apex lifts his eyes, 

Nor heeds the mud heaj3 whence its altars rise. 

Even Intelligence, to honor dead, 

Shames not to dabble for its daily bread, 

With sullied fingers in the fetid mire. 

But loudly strikes its desecrated lyre 

In praise of all that rectitude detests. 

And in obedience to the vile behests 

Of a degrading, vitiated taste, 

Up from the blackest depth by vice disgraced^ 

Uncleansed, and reeking with infectious slime, 

Drags foul licentiousness and brutal crime, 

Veils their deformity in tempting guise. 

And then exclaims, " See how the world belies 

Poor slandered infamy," — behold how rare 

And beautiful those lovely forms appear. 

Bedazzled by such meretricious gauds. 

The blind and unreflecting world applauds. 

Profitless decency looks idly on. 

Grieving to see its occupation gone, 

A little envious, it must be allowed. 

To find its opposite so please the crowd. 

Now circumstance and its reflected page. 

The printed transcripts of the passing age, 

Are with the weird and terrible so rife. 

So filled with images of blood and strife. 

Each publication with its fellow vies 

Which shall most startlingly familiarize 

The general mind with scenes of the " Intense,''^ 

That crime, made common, no more shocks the sense,. 

But men the daily catalogue of vices 

Peruse as calmly the market prices. 

Erewhile, in distant climes the trumpet's blare 

Wakes slumbering War up from his hideous lair, 

For cause most causeless, haply the desire 

To give some princeling baptism of fire. 



22 



Or else some crafty knavery of state 
In wholesale carnage to obliterate ; 
Meanwhile, as thousands upon thousands bleed, 
'Reliojion's dis^nitaries bless the deed, 
■Chanting Te Dennis, too, from time to time ; 
As though they'd fain, with impudence sublime, 
Make Heaven itself abettor in the crime. 
Thus, to my mind, the anthem's form should be- 
The real import of such blasphemy. 

THE HYMN OF PRINCES. . 

Lord! we have given, in thy name, 
The peaceful villages to flame. 
Of all, the dwellers we've bereft, 
1^0 trace of hearth, no roof-tree left. 
Beneath our war-steeds' iron tread, 
The germ of future life is dead. 
We have swept o'er it like a blight. 
To Thee the praise, God of Right ! 

We have let loose the demon chained 
In bestial hearts, that unrestrained 
Infernal revel it may hold. 
And feast on villainies untold. 
With ravening drunkenness possest, 
And mercy banished from each breast ; 
All war's atrocities above 
To Thee the praise, God of Love! 

Some hours ago, on yonder plain, 
There stood, six hundred thousand men 
Made in thine image, strong and rife 
With hope, and energy, and life. 
And none but had some prized one, dear, 
Grief-stricken, wild with anxious fear, 
A third of them we have made ghosts ; 
To Thee the praise, Lord of Hosts ! 

Thy sacred temples we've not spared. 
For they the broad destruction shared, 
The annals of time-honored lore. 



23 



Xiost to the world, are now no more. 
What reck we if the holy fane 
And learning's dome are mourned in vain ? 
Our work those landmarks to efface ; 
To Thee the praise, Lord of Grace, ! 

Secure, behind a wall of steel, 

To watch the yielding columns reel, 

While round them sulphurous clouds arise, 

Foul incense wafting to the skies, 

From our home-manufactured Hell, 

Is royal pastime we like well. 

As momently Death's ranks increase ; 

To Thee the praise, God of Peace ! 

Thus shall it be, while human kind, 

-Madly perverse or wholly blind, 

Will so complacently be led 

At our command their blood to shed 

For lust of conquest, or the sly. 

Deceptive, diplomatic lie ; 

To us the gain, to them the ruth. 

To Thee the praise, God of Truth! 

Oh ! world insensate, that for petty crime 

Outwears with verbose laws the ear of Time, 

But when self-gorged it swells to monstrous growth, 

Law and the grovelling world, besotted both, 

Hail it with frantic shouts, until the shame 

Tossed upward on their breath mounts into Fame ! 

Time yet, with tragic front that ever lowers, 

Stabs his ensanguined record on the hours. 

Leaving behind him. in his footsteps gory, 

^Subjects for many a dramatic story. 

This would be terrible, did we not know 

That much of the time's fierceness is mere show — 

Bravado only, and the crimson taint 

Is very often nothing but red paint. 

Just as I'm told, but can't believe it true, 

The soft and delicate carnation hue 



24 



On beauty's cheek is sometimes but illusion, 
Produced by putting a slight tinge — confusion I 
This is high treason against all the Graces — 
'Tis only savages that paint their faces. 

It's clear to me, upon slight retrospection, 

That had I but indulged in due reflection, 

Or, as I should have done ere I began, 

Marked out the faintest shadow of a plan, 

I would not now be forced to the admission 

That I am in a perilous position. 

My mulish Pegasus, I grieve to say. 

Both blind and lame, has somehow lost his way^ 

Treading with me an unaccustomed road, 

Or tired it may be of the heavy load 

He has to bear — Pm over jockey weight — 

I cannot urge him into any gait. 

The fact is, when I got upon his back, 

I found him such a sorry, headstrong hack, 

I feared a most uncomfortable ride. 

So prone to bolt and shy from side to side ; 

So let him have the rein, that at his ease 

He might jog on wherever he should please. 

For my bad horsemanship he pays me dearly. 

For having exercised me most severely. 

Galloping recklessly through field and flood,. 

At last he flings me floundering in the mud.. 

I lack the skill to manage him at all. 

And I don't want to risk another fall — J 

That might, who knows, be in a harder spot ; 

So now that off" his back Pve fairly got. 

With the rough beast no longer will I roam, 

But take him quietly and lead him home, 

Inly resolving never such a step a- 

Gain to take or enjulate Mazeppa — 

You probably have seen his "untamed steed '^ 

Up canvas hills, down painted valleys speed,. 

Terrific wilds and trackless w^astes explore. 

Through an extent of thirty feet or more ! 

Doing, by force of concentrating power. 

His thousand miles or so within an hour.. 



25 



But when the curtain's down, the "fiery steed 

Of such prodigious strength and matchless breed. 

Turns out to be some poor old Circus hack, 

So long inured to the dull beaten track, 

That to his task he's disinclined to stir. 

Unless persuaded by the whip and spur. 

I won't point out a simile so subtle. 

But in the language of old Captain Cuttle, 

Ask you to "overhaul the obserwation, 

And when you've found it, make the application.'''^ 



Now to conclude my unambitious rhyme, 
I think I hear you say — 'tis almost time — 
I've but a few more words to say, and those 
Reserved, like sweetest morsels, for the close. 
How beautiful, amid the cares of life, 
The transient bitterness of party strife, 
The thousand devious separated ways 
Through which men journey in maturer days — 
A scene like this, that for a space renews 
On life's meridian the refreshing dews 
Of its young morn. To see hands grasping hands 
With equal ardor^ while the clogging sands 
That time has heaped up since the days of yore 
Are swept away, and we are boys once more. 
What is the mystic power that can compel 
Such joy as this? 'Tis Friendship's sacred spell— 
Friendship ! that death's keen arrow cannot quell 
For while the eternal stars night's purple robe 
Begem, while swings in space the pendent globe. 
Friendship must live. Ah ! may its impulse high 
Still guard and guide the Theta Delta Chi. 




^ OHIGIN AND FOUNDERS OF THE THETA DELTA CHI. 



Brothers in Theta Delta Chi : 

The history of the origin of our Society ought to be written 
without more years of delay, since it is unknown to the mem- 
l)ers in general, and liable, owing to the pitiless march of Death, 
to fall into cureless oblivion. . We issued from Union College, 
a prolific mother of the peculiar secret societies that pick their 
names out of the Greek Alphabet, and their members out of 
American institutions of education. Excluding local societies, 
and the Phi Beta Kappa, which is merely honorary, the list of 
College fraternities begins with the Kappa Alpha, founded in 
1823, and ends (of societies of any importance) with the Phi 
Kappa Psi, founded in 1852. Between these years. Union Col- 
lege, under the presidency of Dr. Nott, was very flourishing, and 
at our birth-year, 1847, had touched the zenith of her glory. Sev- 
eral societies existe i at Union before iis^ but they were far from 
filling the room that the large membership of the College made, 
and the class to which our founders belonged was larger than 
any previous one, and graduated 140 persons. Of the six stu- 
dents who began the Theta Delta Chi Society two are still liv- 
ing, one has recently entered the tomb, and three passed through 
its gloomy portals many years ago, but none are forgotten. 
Death, who takes our members, cannot destroy their share in the 
hearts of the survivors, nor dim the ever-brightening colors with 
which memory paints the form and actions of the loved and lost. 

Theodore B. Brown was born in Schenectady, in 1830, and 
entered the Freshman class in 1845. He had a medium 
height, slender form and delicate frame, black eyes, black hair 
and dark complexion. He was neivous, sensitive and modest, 
and needed to be well known to be appreciated. He was of 
Presbyterian faith and Puritan character, and lived so entirely 



28 

above reproach that it was hardly possible for him to have an 
enemy. His friendship was heartfelt, and extended to all Avith 
whom he was intimate. He was studious in his habits, and tal- 
ented, though not brilliant. He graduated nineteenth in his 
class. He went into business in Schenectady, in partnership with 
his father, and shortly died. 

William G. Aiken was the son of a well-tc%do farmer of Green- 
bush, N. Y. He was born in 1830, and entered Freshman in 
1845. He was of medium height and rather stout, with full 
face, florid complexion and hazel eyes. He had dark-brown 
hair, and wore a goatee. He dressed well, and was proud of 
his appearance, and, as his foot was very small, never put on any 
but the neatest of boots. He had gentlemanly manners, jolly 
disposition, warm, generous heart, and handsome, good-humored 
face. While he passed through College without discredit, he 
was fonder of the society of the ladies of Schenectady than of that 
of the Greek and Latin lexicons ; and he took more interest in 
the figures of Terpsichore than in those of Legendre. Conse- 
quently, he graduated nearer the foot than the head of his class. 
He studied medicine with Dr. March, of Albany, and attended 
two courses of lectures at the Albany Medical College. Then 
he entered the office of Dr. Green, of New York, and took his 
M. D. in the New York Medical College. He began practice in 
Albany, and there married a Miss Smith. Getting few patients, 
in 1854 he left his wife and daughter with his parents, at Green- 
bush, and removed to Chicago, where he had a prospect of estab- 
lishing himself. Not long after his arrival the cholera, at that 
time epidemic, claimed him, and he died among persons who had 
recently been strangers, but whom he had made warm friends 
by his genial qualities. 

William Plyslop Avas from Rhinebeck, N. Y., born in 182&, 
and entered the Freshman class in 1845. He was tall and slim,, 
straight as an arrow, and very proud in his bearing. He had) 
black hair and black eyes, and a face made handsome by an in-^ 
tellectual cast of features. His life was pure and chivalric, and 
his friendship is a sacred memory to them that enjoyed it. He 
.ranked fifteenth in his class. At Commencement he recited a 
poem, entitled " The Death of Mozart," in which, by direction of 
Dr. Nott, he introduced a valedictory address. He went from 
College to New York City, entered his brother's office as a stu- 



29 

■dent of medicine, attended lectures two years at tlie College of 
Physicians and Surgeons, and took M. D. He was one year 
Assistant House Physician in Bellevue Hospital, and then joined 
his brother in private practice in East Broadway. He gave 
promise of a highly successful career and an autumn of life 
crowded with the rich fruits of able and honorable endeavor, a 
promise not to be fulfilled, for in 1854 he fell a victim to typhoid 
fever, contracted during his attendance on the sick. 

Samuel F. Wile was the son of a clergyman of Pleasant Val- 
ley, N". Y. He was small of stature, and of somewhat delicate 
' health. He had light hair and blue eyes. His character was 
genial and his scholarship good. After graduating he studied 
medicine for a time, became tired of it and passed a year in 
business. He then took up a seafaring life and went to the An- 
tipodes, and for eighteen years struggled with the winds of the 
South Pacific Ocean, and baffled the rage of Australian seas. 
He resided twelve years in New Zealand. At the solicitation of 
friends he returned to the United States in 1870, and went into 
business at St. Stephen's, South Carolina. He died there in Oc- 
tober, 1872, leaving no children. His widow has departed to 
her native country. South America. The details of this wayward 
life are shrouded from us, but it is some gratification to a natural 
sentiment to know that the wanderer found his port of final rest 
in the soil of his native land. When Dr. Gilbert wrote to him 
in 1871 he was greatly surprised to hear again of the Theta 
Delta Chi Society, of which his distant and eventful life had 
dulled the memory; but at the sight of the names sent him as 
those of the founders, he said that the countenances of all these 
College comrades came up before him vividly enough to draw 
their portraits. He was proud of his share in the origin of the 
Society, and apparently anticipating an early death, he expressed 
a desire that, if any history of Theta Delta Chi was published, a 
•copy should be sent to his father, who lives on the banks of the 
Hudson. 

Abel Beach was born in Groton, N". Y., in 1829. He entered 
the Sophomore class in 1846. He. staid out to teach during his 
senior year. He had a medium stature, large eyes of hazel 
color, brown hair and fair complexion. He was of plain appear- 
ance, retiring disposition and diffident character; but with a 
cheerful temper and merry laugh, not a little humor and unfail 



30 

ing common sense. He was a pleasant companion, a good whist- 
player and a sincere friend. He was unusually faithful to all 
the duties of a student's life, and remarkably careful and orderly. 
The maximum in the class of 1849 was three hundred, and Mr. 
Beach " took a full bill,"' with eleven others, between whom 
there was no diiference in graduating rank. After leaving Col- 
lege he taught a while in Ithaca Academy, N. Y., then in East- 
ern Virginia, and then in Westfield Academy, N. Y. A bron- 
chial affection induced him to abandon teaching, and he read 
law in the office of Messrs. Marvin Bros., Buffalo, and practiced 
a short time in Ithaca, N. Y. In 1854 he removed to Iowa, 
where, finding his anticipations realized of an improvement in 
health, he took the chair of Latin and Greek in the Iowa State 
University when it first opened. The return of his bronchial 
difficulties caused him to resign this position at the end of a 
single term. In 1856 he married a lady who had been a former 
pupil, the daughter of Col. Bowen, of Iowa City. Mr. Beach 
then served four years as Deputy Auditor of State. He subse- 
quently edited a morning paper in Keokuk, but the nightwork 
required proved injurious to his health. For the last eight years 
he has been successfully engaged in the book and stationery 
trade in Iowa City. The cares of business, 1 judge, are not 
entirely agreeable, for he wrote to Dr. Gilbert in 1871 : " To the 
soul which has once tasted the fruits of a higher life than the 
mere struggle for earthly subsistence, or the chasing of that 
phantom called wealth, there comes at times a sad and inexpres- 
sible regret that the bright visions of our youth have come to so 
serious a waking, and that after all we find ourselves struggling- 
shoulder to shoulder with the masses for those worldly fruits- 
which crumble to ashes when brought within our grasp. How • 
pleasant then, in this uncertain and unsatisfying struggle, is the * 
reflection that we have been instrumental in planting or sustain- 
ing some institution which shall live beyond the brief allotment 
of our mortal life, and bless whoever may come within the pale 
of its influence." Mr. Beach is well-known and universally re- 
spected where he resides. He is a Republican in politics, and in 
religion, a Methodist. He has had three sons, two are living, 
and I doubt not will ere long receive warm welcome at the door 
of some Theta Delta Chi Lodge. 

Andrew Heatley Green must not be confounded with Andrew 



31 

H. Greon of this city, who has plenty of honors of his own, but 
is not entitled to tlie honor of founding the Theta Delta Chi 
Society. Our Andrew H. Green was born in Utica; in 1830.. 
His father was a farmer in good circumstances, but not rich. 
Andrew Green was examined for admission to Union College in 
the summer of 1845^ and returned home to prosecute the studies 
of the Freshman year; he joined his class first term Sophomore. 
He was of medium height, very erect, and rather stout ; he had 
a complexion somewhat florid, sandy hair, blue eyes, bright and 
keen. He was a whole-souled, straightforward young man, hon- 
est and sturdy, and without any airs about him. He was digni- 
fied in manner, but not reserved ; on the contrary, very cordial, 
and not averse to joviality ; but though social, he was fond of 
the right sort of companionship only, which fact accounts natu- 
rally for his joining the Theta Delta Chi Society. He came 
from Utica Academy a good scholar in Latin, Greek and French, 
and went through College very creditably, but did not give suf- 
ficiently close application to the higher mathematics. He excel- 
led in literary performances, and had one of the best places at 
Commencement. 

He taught school one year in Powhatan County, Virginia. He 
studied law in the office of Spencer &, Kernan in Utica, and was 
admitted to the Bar in 1851 ; he served one year as City Clerk, 
and ran unsuccessfully for the office of City Attorney. At the 
Theta Delta Chi Convention in Schenectady, in 1854, he was the 
Orator. He accepted from Commodore William Mervine the- 
position of Commodore's Secretary and Judge Advocate of the 
United States Pacific Squadron. In a two years cruize on the 
the flagship Independence he visited Pio Janeiro and the princi- 
pal ports of both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and wrote letters 
descriptive of various places, as correspondent of "The Utica 
Observer" and " New York Journal of Commerce." He served 
as Judge Advocate in many important trials, with entire accept- 
ability to the Court and the accused. About the end of 1855 he 
resigned his position, and after travelling in California returned 
to Utica, where he resumed the practice of the law. In ISSY he 
removed to St. Paul, Minnesota, and entered into law and poli- 
tics there. He was warmly recommended by Horatio Seymour, 
and many other prominent Democrats, for appointment as Judge 
of the United States District Court for Dakota Territory, then 



32 

intended to be organized, but which was in fact not organize d 
during Buchanan's administration. In the fall and winter of 
1857 he made a romantic trip to the sources of the Mississippi, 
travelling several hundred miles on foot, and as many in birch 
oanoes, and passing some weeks in a camp of the Chippewa In- 
dians far from any white settlement. In 1860, under the desire 
to live in his native State, and urged by friends he left a lucra- 
tive practice and returned to Utica, and the next year removed 
to Syracuse, where he had brothers. There he has practiced law 
with much success, and has been for the last two years Attorney 
and Counsel of the City. He is a sound lawyer, good writer 
and fair speaker, and as a man much respected. He carries on 
a farm of fifty-five acres within the city limits. He has always 
been a Democrat, and has frequently been president of the local 
Democratic organization, and delegate to the State Convention, 
but in the confused condition of politics at the last election he 
forget himself so far as to vote for Grant and Wilson. He mar- 
ried in 1863 the eldest daughter of the Hon. Rutger B. Miller, 
and niece of Gov. Horatio Seymour. He has three sons, Theta 
Delts in the bud, and one daughter, who T suppose will be too 
proud of her father's honor to accept a husband who cannot en- 
title her to wear the Theta Delta Chi badge. 

There was for a short time among the founders another per- 
son whose name I dedicate to oblivion. He entered Freshman in 
the fall of 1847. He boasted of riches, and was very noisy, with 
some worse traits of character. He was expelled from the So- 
Kjiety, and left College soon afterwards. His subsequent life is 
unknown. I hesitated to speak of him, but do so partly from 
disinclination to omit anything important that took place, and 
partly that the expulsion, which is still approved by the survi- 
ving founders, may be a lesson of judicious firmness to the pre- 
sent chapters. The headlong rivalry of College Societies often 
leads to taking a well- appearing young man without sufficient 
investigation of his character, and hence every Society is occa- 
sionally, though of course very rarely, disgraced by a member 
who is either a sot, a liar, or a cheat. For such a distressing 
oase there is but one efficient treatment, the bold surgery of ex- 
pulsion. One bad fellow, if allowed to remain in a chapter, will 
frighten more than one good fellow from joining, and in after 
life his unscrupulous friendship prove a terror to the graduates. 



33 

The Theta Delta Chi Society is not a church to demand ascetic 
morality of its members, but there is a certain reasonably indul- 
gent standard of honorable living that not any member should 
be allowed to fall short of It is much more important to guard 
our membership than our secrets. If an excommunicate reveals 
anything it is an annoyance, but not a disgrace, except to him- 
self, for we have no secrets discreditable, either because evil in 
themselves or because useful for the world to know. 

The gentlemen I have named were, when our Society pro- 
claimed itself, young men seventeen or eighteen years old, and 
members of the class of 1849, then having just entered the 
junior year. Their high standing in College is sufficiently proved 
by the fact that Hyslop, Beach and Brown were elected to the 
Phi Beta Kappa before graduation, and Green after. No rival 
Society did as well. As for the spirit and sentiments with which 
they founded the fraternity, Andrew Green testifies in 1873 : 
*' I cannot, however the poet may, ascribe the origin of the Theta 
Delta Chi to any extraordinary intervention of the Gods. It 
grew out of the social needs, natures, tastes, longings, sympa- 
thies and friendships of that noble band w^ho first kindled the 
fires upon its altars. I speak of them other than myself as men 
than whom there were never any more fit to form or fasten the 
ties of a pure and enduring friendship. The Theta Delta Chi 
sought to cultivate, give expression to, and perpetuate in kind 
their lofty ideal of the passion that has ennobled the names of 
Damon and Pythias. As Hyslop and his fellows, living and dead, 
gave form to Theta Delta Chi, so did it impart fervor to them, 
and never was knight more true to his king or tender to his 
mistress than they to each other or to Theta Delta Chi. As a 
consequence the Society rose rapidly in importance, and its mem- 
bers found in their fraternal pride a strong stimulus and safe- 
guard." Abel Beach testifies in a letter to Dr. Gilbert in 1871 : 
^ * In the organization of our Society we aimed to combine good 
scholarship, pure morality and love — I may say — this love 
being a recognition of our social nature in every proper manifes- 
tation and pledged not only for the College course and those 
who happened to be our immediate associates, but for coming 
years and the sterner experiences of life, and also the members 
who should follow us and bear aloft the banner of our active 
forces whether in our own or other institutions of learning." 



34 

The project of forming the new Society was talked over and 
agreed upon in the Spring of 1847, and many meetings were held 
and great discussion was had with regard to the name, constitu- 
tion and badge. The work was mainly intrusted to a committee 
of three, Mr. Green, Mr. Hyslop and Mr. Beach. The Fraternity 
owe a special debt of gratitude to Mr. Beach for the motto which 
is the corner-stone of our temple, and has proved so acceptable to 
every College generation of oar members. Great care and labor 
were expended on the Constitution, which was wholly originated. 
To Mr. Green more than any other single person is due the credit, 
of that admirable production. Mr. Beach made the first record 
of it in a beautiful book procured from New York for the pur- 
pose. In a letter to Dr. Gilbert in 1871, he says : "The partic- 
ular wording of that instrument has passed from my memory, but 
I am sure its aims and sentiments were honorable, pure and 
praiseworthy, and I am gratified to know that it has proved a 
good and sufficient bond to hold in fraternal relations so many 
excellent members of our best institutions of learning." The 
organization of the Fraternity was consummated in October 
1847. The founders passed through no formal initiation, but 
signed the Constitution and solemnly pledged themselves to 
aHde by the obligations found therein. 

The original badge was a small gold shield with a chased 
edge. It bore the stars and arrows as at present. It was worn 
by only two of the founders — Aiken and him who is here name- 
less. It was soon superseded by the large enameled shield 
familiar to all the older members. This badge was universally 
admired in Union College; its symbolical beauty making it supe- 
rior to the monograms and mathematical figures of our rivals.. 
The initiation service at first used was very slight, the present 
form not having been adopted until the fall of 1848. The 
earliest initiated members proved such valuable acquisitions and 
were so much appreciated, that there seems to have been some- 
agreement that they should rank as founders of the Fraternity. 

Frank E. Martindale was born in 1830, at Sandy Hill, N. Y. 
His father was a Whig member of Congress for twelve years. 
He entered the Sophomore class in the fall of 1847, and joined 
the Theta Delta Chi in January 1848. He was tall and 
well proportioned, of commanding yet pleasing exterior, with 
full face, gray eyes, hair abundant and somewhat inclined tOv 
curl. He had a strong voice and hearty laugh, and was very 



35 

frank and positive in his manner. He was a pleasant compan- 
ion, and one of whom his friends had reason to be proud. After 
graduating well in 1850, he entered Dr. March's office, in Albany, 
and attended one course of lectures. In 1851 limited means 
obliged him to resort to teaching, and he was for one year Pro- 
fessor of Latin and Greek in the Military Institute, then flourish- 
ing, at Portsmouth, Virginia. He afterwards attended a course 
of lectures at the College of Physicians and Surgeons, N. Y. He 
married, in 1852, the daughter of Brig. -Gen. D. Denyse, a resi- 
dent of Staten Island. In 1853 he took M. D. in Albany, and 
the next year located himself in Brooklyn and endeavored to get 
patients, with indifferent success. In 1855 he was appointed 
Deputy Health Officer of the Port of 'New York. He resigned in 
1857 and removed to Ottumwa, Iowa, where he entered into land 
speculations, which reduced him to poverty. In 1858 he returned 
to Sandy Hill, and leaving his family there, came to this city to 
practice his profession. When war broke out with the South he 
entered the Navy as a surgeon. He was present on the United 
States steamer Montgomery at the capture of New Orleans. 
Afterwards he was on the Valley City, a river gunboat stationed 
in the sounds of North Carolina. In 1864 he became Army sur- 
geon, and was ordered to David's Island Hospital. In 1865 he 
received a commission as Major, and was put in command of the 
Dale General Hospital, at Worcester, Massachusetts. After the 
closing of the hospital he came to New York, where he acted as^ 
Sanitary Inspector during the cholera epidemic of 1867. The 
same year he removed to Port Richmond, Staten Island, where 
he has since remained in the successful practice of his benevolent 
profession. In politics the Doctor is strongly Republican. Hc: 
has had live children — all girls — and the youngest is dead. 

After Martindale, came in the Fondas. They were born (in 
Montgomery, N. Y.) — Jesse in 1823, and Theodore inl825; and 
they were, consequently, more mature in person and character 
than their fellow-students. Their father was a clergyman, who 
died when they were small children. Their mother, with the 
self-sacrifice that comes easy to mothers, always contrived to- 
keep her boys at school. Theodore Fonda joined the Sophomore 
class in the fall of 1847. He was considered a splendid fellow^ 
and great efforts were made to get him for the Theta Delta Chi 
Society. He was initiated in March, 1848. At first, he regret- 



36 

ted the step he had taken, influenced by his brother Jesse, who 
was absent from Schenectady, and opposed to joining a new 
society. Theodore Fonda was tall, erect and well proportioned. 
His complexion was fair, and face slightly pock-marked. He had 
d^rk-blue eyes and dark-brown hair. His features expressed 
much intelligence, his mouth indicated great pride, and he was 
high-toned in his feelings. He had very pleasing manners, and 
made friends readily when he chose to exert the power, and he 
was very social with those he liked, but haughty and reserved 
to others. He was of cheerful disposition, and always saw 
things on the bright side. Although not a hard student, he stood 
well in his class. During their Junior year, he and his brother 
taught school in Westchester county. They returned to College 
in the fall of 1849, and graduated in 1850. Theodore Fonda 
studied law in the office of Stephen Cambreling, and practised in 
this city. He married, in 1857, the daughter of Frederick Fort- 
meyer. He was elected, in 1859, Civil Justice of one of the City 
Courts, by the Democratic party, to which he always belonged. 
He made a first-rate judge, though he had not been a great 
advocate. He died in 1869, leaving a widow, three sons and a 
daughter. 

Jesse Fonda was not so tall as his brother, and not quite as 
good-looking. He had a high forehead, light complexion, blue 
■eyes, dark hair and a somewhat hoarse, shrill voice. He was a 
fair student and agreeable companion, and strictly moral in his 
conduct. He was more quiet and less positive than his brother, 
but still with a streak of determination running through his 
character. He entered College, third term. Sophomore, in May, 
1848. Becoming acquainted with the members of the new Soci- 
ety, he altered his opinion and accepted a proposition to join. 
He studied law with Edward Wells, of Peekskill, and was admit- 
ted to practice in 1852. He was in partnership with his brother 
till the election of the latter as judge, since which time he has 
been engaged in his profession in this city. Like his brother, he 
joined politics to the law, but unlike his brother, he took the side 
of the Republican party. He has never indulged in matrimony. 
Geoi'ge D. Cowles, at present a prominent lawyer of Syracuse, 
Allen C. Beach, the late Lieutenant-Governor of this State, John 
K. French, Professor of Mathematics in Genesee College and 
William H. Merriam, formerly a journalist but now in business, 



37 

and several others I know less about, were initiated before the 
Class of 1849 graduated. But those whom I have sketched are 
all who are claimed to be founders of the Theta Delta Chi. Their 
honorable lives furnish confirmation of the great argument by 
which College fraternities justify themselves to the moralist, to 
wit, that within a small circle of participation they develope power- 
ful altruistic feelings that eiFectually overcome selfishness, and be- 
coming habitual lead forcibly to general benevolence. In their 
secret halls the tender plant of social love, guarded from rude and 
hostile hands and cherished by the chosen few, springs and blooms 
and strengthens, to cast its fragrance in the universal air and 
yield its matured balm to all mankind. 

In these Societies the vitally important work of election- 
eering is usually undertaken by a few who have a genius for 
influencing strangers. The other members show good judgment 
in not meddling with what they are likely to spoil by failing to 
hit the proper medium (continually varying according to the 
character of the victim) between too little and too much rushing. 
In the early days of the Alpha Chapter the electioneerers were 
Green, Aiken, Martindale and Theodore Fonda. For the first 
few years there was no permanent hall and no regular meetings. 
When business was to be transacted the Society met in the 
private room of one of the members. Theodore Brown's father 
was a cabinet manufacturer and furniture dealer in Schenectady, 
and the first initiations were made in a hall extemporized from 
the spacious wareroom of Mr. Brown, Sr. , rendered suitable and 
brilliant for the occasion by a judicious arrangement of a whole- 
sale stock of mirrors and furniture. After Theodore Fonda 
joined some initiations took place in the elegant parlors of the 
mansion of Governor Yates, then still owned by his descendants- 
and occupied while her sons were going through College by the 
mother of the Fondas, who graciously allowed the use of the 
house to the Society to which her jewels belonged. A number of 
initiations took place in Givens' Hotel. One in October 1848 
deserves particular mention. Samuel Hartwell, who had entered 
the new Sophomore Class, had received a proposition from the 
Sigma Phi, whose members felt sure of him but kept him in con- 
stant watch, as they knew he had also been elected to the Theta 
Delta Chi. Now the Sigma Phi was a very strong Society, and 
whenever any of our members modestly accosted Hartwell, a force 



38 

of big and little Sigs gathered quickly on the field and seriously 
interfered with an adequate unfolding of the numerous advan- 
tages of joining the Theta Delta Chi. Anxiety for the young 
man's welfare suggested a resort to the favorite tactics of the 
noble Mohawks, whose ancient council-grounds are covered by 
the present city of Schenectady. Consequently, one day our 
members in concert cut recitations and captured the gentleman 
in the room of the only one of the Sigma Phi Society, who was 
not in class. A gallant effort was made to induce Hartwell to 
close his ears to Theta Delta Chi eloquence, but numbers pre- 
vailed, and he was borne off on a torrent of facts and arguments 
to be initiated in a private room in the second story of the hotel. 
The new member was at once marched back to College, decorated 
with a Theta Delta Chi badge and paraded before the astounded 
Sigma Phi's, as they issued from the recitation-room. The 
stratagem of war which procured us this victory, filled with the 
pernicious wrath of Achilles and the remembering anger of Juno 
the hearts that beat beneath the badge of Sigma Phi. But the 
rescue of the young man excited the admiration of the College 
and the exultation of our Society, and it is still a source of self- 
complacency and moral gratification to the few surviving victors 
of that glorious day. 

The Theta Delta Chi, like its patron goddess, never passed 
through a weak and puling infancy, but sprang into being with 
the strength of maturity; it immediately took an enviable posi- 
tion among the older Societies of Union College, though, of course 
not without labor and anxiety to maintain it. Our founders 
spared no efforts to secure to succeed them a membership of high 
standing as regards morality, intelligence and sociability, that 
would cement endearing and enduring friendship, and make the 
Fraternity an important power for the well-being of any insti- 
tution with which it might become connected. Surrounding 
with sweet and helpful affection the lonesome and bewildered 
-new-comer within the gloomy College walls, our Society is to 
Jiim, as is, to the parched and blinded summer traveller of the 
desert plateau of Sahra, the verdurous plain of Damascus, where 
<he rides in the shade of walnut, olive, cypress and plane trees, 
rising out of vineyards and cornfields; wanders by orchards 
of oranges, apricots and citrons, figs, mulberries and pomegran- 
ates ; lingers near gardens of red roses and white jasmines. 



39 

and is refreshed by the breezy air full of varied fragrance, 
is regaled with the singing of birds, and soothed by the 
murmur of the ubiquitous waters that bestow all this boundless 
fertility and beauty which, it is said, Mohammed beheld from 
the heights of Saleyeh and refused to enter, for the fanciful fear 
that to him who should enjoy this paradise, God would deny 
:another in the life hereafter. 




40 
REUNION SONG. 

" Air — " All Together." 

All together, all together, 

Swell the chorus high ; 
Hearts and voices light as ever 

Hail our Theta Delta Chi. 
Though we parted, still unbroken 

Is friendship's chain ; 
Though the mournful word was spoken, 

Now in smiles we meet again. 

CHORUS. 

Oh, were we never 

Forced to breathe the parting sigh I 
No more to sever 

From our Theta Delta Chi ! 

Greeting each returning brother, 

Let us forget. 
In the love we bear each other, 

Every thought of past regret ; 
Since the present, full of gladness. 

Bids us be gay. 
Banish every cloud of sadness. 

And be happy while we may. 

When our Union we must sever. 

And part again. 
Still in feeling true as ever 

Shall our faithful hearts remain ; 
Oft shall memory, breathing o'er us 

Sweet friendship's sigh, 
Bring the vision bright before us . 

Of our Theta Delta Chi. 

CHORUS. 

Oh, were we never 

Forced to breathe the parting sigh .'' 
Nevermore to sever 

From our Theta Delta Chi ! 

J. KiLBOURNE JONES^ 



41 



FILL UP YOUR BLUSHING GOBLETS. 

Air—" Benny Havens, O ! " 

Fill up your blushing goblets 

Till tlie bubbles kiss the brim, 
We'll drink and shout our chorus out 

Till waning stars are dim ; 
We'll sing a name which lights to flame 

The lustre in each eye, 
And brings a flush to every brow, — 

'Tis Theta Delta Chi. 

Chorus. 
O, 'tis Theta Delta Chi, 'tis Theta Delta Chi : 
And brings a flash to every brow — 'tis Theta Delta Chi. 

Drive Plutus hence, let Bacchus here 

Assert his joyous sway ; 
Shout owlish wisdom into fear. 

Let care infest the day ; 
We'll drink until the tipsy stars 

Wink in the glimmering sky ; 
Time fleets away, let youth be gay, 

In Theta Delta Chi. 

And if, perchance, one sadder line 

May mingle with the strain. 
For those, the lost, whose loving voice 

We ne'er shall hear again. 
Let this rejoice the heavy heart, 

And light the dimming eye, 
The gates of Eden are not closed 

To Theta Delta Chi. 

Then fill your goblets till the wine 

Shall kiss the blushing brim, 
Till morn is red, and night is dead. 

And stars are waning dim. 
Stir up the lagging steeds of Time, 

And speed them as they fly. 
We'll pledge this night to pure delight,. 

And Theta Delta Chi. 

Chorus. • 

O, 'tis Theta Delta Chi, 'tis Theta Delta Chi ; 

We'll pledge this night to pure delight, and Theta Delta Chi. 

John Hay. 



42 
BACCHANALIAN SONG. 

"Air — " Vive r Am our.* 

Let Bacchanals sing the praises of wine^ 

Vive la Theta Delt, 
'Nectarean juice from the purpling vine, 

Vive la Theta Delt, 
Though wreathing gay rainbows round the red i^lass, 

Vive la Theta Delt, 
They'll all melt away like bubbles, alas ! 

Vive la Theta Delt. 

CHOKFS. 

Vive la, vive la Theta Delt, 
Vive la, vive la Theta Delt, 

Pour toi, pour moi, 

Pour moi, pour toi, 

Vive la Theta Delt. 

Let the poet warble of beauty's child, 

Vive la Theta Delt, 
And dream of bright eyes in his vision wild, 

Vive la Theta Delt, 
Of lips that mock the red wine's bright glow, 

Vive la Theta Delt, 
And golden tresses that wavelike flow, 

Vive la Theta Delt. 

Come, join ye the magical circle now, 

Vive la Theta Delt, 
Who round our Fraternity's altar bow, 

Vive la Theta Delt. 
Friendship eternal let each brother swear, 

• Vive la Theta Delt, 
Who the glorious sign of our order doth wear, 

Vive la Theta Delt. 

George P. Uptox. 



43 



WHILE WE MAY. 

Air — " Drink Away." 

Come throw away Sophocles' measures, and treasures 

Of cold mathematical truth, 
And be merry an hour round our table — no fable 

More genial to jovial youth; 
While we may, while we may, while we may. 
Our tracks are soon under the drift. 

And toil is the curse of us aye , 
Then rejoice, for the moments are swift, 
While we may, while we may. 

We hold it for true, that it's treason, when reason 

Renounces allegiance to soul, 
Or declares itself — false-hearted lover — above her ; 

O, break from its iron <?ontrol ! 
While we may, while we may, while we may. 
For in years it will fix it a throne. 

And banish its mistress away ; 
Then chord these two strings into tone, 
While we may, while we may. 

O, then grasp the hand of each brother, another 

In the grip of our mystical tie. 
And let fill to o'erflowing the emotion, an ocean 

* Of Theta and Delta and Chi, 
While we may, while we may, while we may. 
When feeling is flushing each eye, 

And to-morrow's forgot in to-day, 
Then pledge we the wine-cup on high, 
While we maj^ while we may. 

W. M. COLEMA^N. 



44 
INITIATION SONG. 

Air — " Bonnie Blue Flag." 

Dear brothers, while we meet to-night 

Bright shines the moon above, 
But since we saw her silver light 

One more partakes our love. 
Another brother wears the shield 

On which our symbols lie. 
And from whose gold and azure field 

The feathered arrows fly. 

CHORUS : 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Theta Delta Chi f 
For brightly shine, the stars benign 
From out her azure sky. 

The forest leaves are swept away 

Before November's gale ; 
The lovely flowers bloom for a day 

Then perish cold and pale. 
But our true love, fresh as spring leaves,. 

And bright as summer flowers, 
Outlasts the garnered autumn sheaves, 

Outlasts the winter hours. 

Dear brother, you who on this night 

Have joined our mystic band, 
Who now to us your faith do pliglit, 

And grasp each brother's hand, 
May you in Theta's friendship true 

A faithful brother stay, 

And love will, like the morning dew, 

Lie ever in your way. 

Camekon, Mann. 



45 
ZETA SHOUTS HER CHORUS. 

Air — " Sparkling and Bright." 

The hand's warm clasp, when brothers grasp, 

No earthly power can sever ; 
And a brother's love, all change above. 

Shall cling to the heart forever. 

CHORUS. 

Then laugh and sing, ere Time can fling 

His chilling shadow o'er us ; 
Let young delight put care to flight, 
With Zeta's ringing chorus. 

The sacred chain shall our hearts retain 

In its links of fond devotion, 
While brims each soul, like the blushing bowl, 

With the wine of warm emotion. 

Each spirit keep, in memory deep, 

Our motto's mystic beauty ; 
Let it shine afar like a pilot star. 

O'er the holy path of duty. 

And thus each day shall glide away, 

In bliss to perfect encing; 
And life be bright with a rainbow light, 

Of tears and sunshine blending. 

Old Time shall fly more merrily by, 

Whea joy has plumed his pinions, 
And not a shade from his wings be laid 

On love and youth's dominions. 

CHORUS. 

Then laugh and sing ; Time ne'er can fling 

His baneful shadow o'er us, 
While hope is bright and our hearts are light 

And the Zeta shouts her chorus. 

John Hay. 



46 



THETA'S DEAD. 

Air — " The Harp tliat once through Tara's Halls/' 

'Tis meet the harp that swells so oft 

To light and gladsome strain 
At times should breathe a sadder air, 

A sorrowful refrain. 
This is the place for song and mirth, 

But still th' unwelcome sigh 
Must sometimes echo through the halls 

Of Theta Delta Chi. 

The flowers that deck our board to-night^ 

The fragrance which they shed, 
Shall waste before the morning light, 

Then life and bloom have fled. 
So friends as lovely in our eyes, 

Their wit like fragrance gave 
To many a fair fraternal feast. 

Then sought a soldier's grave. 

O'er many a crimson field of war 

Their youthful feet have trod, 
Where they with heroes struck lor fame,. 

For country, and for God. 
We hail the peace though bought so dear,. 

Nor stay to count the cost, J 
But cast one wreath upon the bier 

Of Theta's loved and lost. 

T. A. KmLY. 



47 



THE THETA BELT'S WIFE. 

Air — " Araby's Daughter." 

Of all the fair maidens that gladden our vision, 

Whose locks flow in wavelets of glittering gold, 
Whose cheeks bloom like roses from gardens elysiau, 

And whose merry blue eyes deep tenderness hold, 
Oh ! the one that in grace and in beauty is peerless. 

Like an angel come down from the heaven above 
To brighten our life, so dark and so cheerless. 

Is the pearl of all maidens, the Theta Delt's love. 



Of all lovely brides that have turned from the altar 

While the blossoms of orange shine out from their hair^ 
And the bridegroom sustains the footsteps that falter, 

And proudly thinks nothing on earth is more fair. 
Oh ! the fairest of all, in her joy and her blushes, 

In beauty of heart and in beauty of life, 
Like a fountain that from a green meadow outgushes, 

Is the pearl of all ladies, the Theta Delt's wife. 

Camekoist Mann, 




NOTICE TO GRADUATES. 



This pamphlet is printed in large quantity at the expense of the thirteen 
.existing chapters, and is sent to all the graduates whose residences are 
rknown. iln return the graduates are respectfully requested to subscribe 
to the new Catalogue of the Society, which will be issued this year. Be- 
jides names and residences, it will contain the profession and other items, 
of interest concerning the members so far as the Committee are furnished 
with information. It will be an unusually beautiful book, preceded by 
the allegorical steel-plate used in the former catalogue, and containing a 
series of new chapter cuts, embodying the Greek alphabet on a principle 
never before employed in works of this nature. The expense of pub- 
lication is large and the terms of subscription are — two dollars for a copy 
in muslin, three dollars and a half for one in half morocco, beveled boards, 
gilt edges — and five dollars for one in full morocco in the best style of 
bookbinding, with a gilt Theta Delta Chi shield on the side. Few copies 
will be made beyond the number actually subscribed for, and to lighten 
the burden on the Committee, the graduates are requested to pay up 
when they subscribe. In case a graduate receives from his own chapter 
a copy of this pamphlet, he will get word from the proper oflficer to send 
his subscription to such chapter. Graduates of discontinued chapters, and 
members of the Society who are residents of New York City, will receive 
copies of this pamphlet from the Committee of publication, and if they wish 
.copies of the new Catalogue they may send their subscriptions to Lucien 
B. Stone, Banker, 46 Broad street, New York. 

Personal acquaintances of \h.e other members of the Catalogue Com- 
j^mittee can, if preferred, send their subscriptions to them. 



Franklin Burdge, 1 

F. W. Stewart, 

L. B. Stone, 

C. A. Pool, 

C. C. Kneisley, 

I. P. Pardee, 



y Catalogue Committee. 



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